


A Drarry in Time

by mothermalfoy (slytherinxravenclaw)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Auror Harry Potter, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, Post War, Spy Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-27 09:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16216148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherinxravenclaw/pseuds/mothermalfoy
Summary: A decade after the war, Draco Malfoy is sent back to 1996 by his uncle Rodolphus to kill Harry Potter and Severus Snape, and keep his father out of Azkaban. Little does Rodolphus know Draco never had any intention of following the Death Eaters, even as a child, and he'll stop at nothing to keep Harry safe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by an art piece I saw on Tumblr of Harry hugging an older Draco. It seemed really tender and sweet and inspired me to create a story about Draco ending up back in time. Prepare for angst. Teen for mild-swearing. Romance between Harry and Draco will occur post-war and most likely at the end.  
> It goes without saying, all characters belong to JKR & co.

\-- DM _1996_ \--

Draco had played his part marvelously during the course of the war. How could he not have, given who his godfather was. He had kept his head down and pretended to be a good little Death Eater. Even after the war was over, Draco had never let on that he had ever changed his stance. He had assured the few Death Eaters he still knew (those rare ones who managed to trust him despite the odds) that his job at the Ministry had been for show. To get closer to the boy-who-lived in the hopes of finally destroying him and the Ministry from the inside. 

Which was how he had ended up in Scotland in 1996, three weeks before he remembered the Department of Mysteries incident had occurred that had landed his father in prison.

“Finish the job!” Roldophus had growled as he cast the spell that had sent Draco back in time. “Kill Severus, and the boy! Ensure Lucius doesn’t go to Azkaban!” were the last words he heard his uncle utter before the time spell had swirled around him in gold waves that had sent him back to the moment where (for him at least) everything had changed. His father going to Azkaban had been a wakeup call for Draco and not a particularly pleasant one at that. He’d confided in his godfather (the only one for whom he felt he could still trust) that he did not wish to be a Death Eater. Severus had watched him quietly, frowning as he spoke.   


“I’m afraid in this life, you do not have that choice dear boy,” Severus had said quietly. “You will play your part well, or you will die.” So Draco had chosen. He’d chosen to live and protect himself in the process. 

Hogwarts was just as he’d remembered, he could still picture himself following Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad as they’d blasted through the Room of Requirement, to find Harry Potter and his gang producing the Patronus. The sting of the slap Umbridge had delivered to Potter later, Draco was still sure he could feel on his own face, and the realization of how foolish he’d been the moment she had threatened the Cruciatus. 

Draco closed his eyes softly as he considered his next course of action.  _Find Severus,_ he thought. Draco was now the same age as his godfather had been at the time, with that chilling thought in mind, Draco cast a disillusionment over himself and slipped through the Hogwarts wards. It was lucky his magical signature had changed little in his time since Hogwarts, the wards knew him only as a student and had never denied him entry, even when it ought to have given all he’d done in his sixth year. Draco looked up at the still beautiful stone artifice of Hogwarts. He had not seen it since the Battle of Hogwarts. He’d been too heartbroken at the thought of what he’d done to his home away from home to even consider looking upon it ever again. But now, to see it as it was, before his treachery, before he had destroyed it in his own effort to keep himself alive, he could almost feel soft tears in his eyes. Shaking his head, Draco made his way into the castle, it would be dinnertime which meant the students would all be tucked away at their meals. Draco knew his godfather well enough and knew that Severus had often taken his meal in his chambers. Slipping through the doorway down to the dungeons, Draco approached the portrait of a single lily flower standing in a lone meadow and whispered the password. The portrait swung open and Draco stepped inside, his robes billowing behind him as he allowed the disillusionment charm to fall. 

Severus looked up from his book and stared at Draco for a brief moment before returning to his tome. “Lucius... to what do I owe this pleasure?” Severus asked. Draco nearly laughed. He forgot how much he’d looked like his father with his hair longer now. He’d always been told how much he looked like his mother these days, but Draco had merely affected his father all the more, looking like his mother meant he looked kind, caring, and to others, weak. He could ill afford such a thing. Draco strode over to his godfather’s desk and took a seat, swirling his robe out behind him in a dramatic manner, Draco knew his godfather would recognize as his own, but Severus didn’t look up from his book again, so Draco opted to speak instead. 

“Not Lucius,” he said, leaning in close to his godfather. Severus looked up at that.   


“No,” Severus replied, then, “How?”   


“Rodolophus,” Draco said by way of explanation. “I followed your advice well godfather,” he said. “Well, future advice I expect now.” Draco couldn’t quite remember the exact timeline, and he suspected things would change if he managed to do it right. Severus pursed his lips, closing the book on his desk, taking in his godson.   


“Why?”   


“He expects me to kill Potter,” Draco said. A variation of the full truth. He wasn't sure it was advisable to reveal too much.   


“So he  _does_ succeed then?” Severus asked, cautiously. Draco frowned, considering his response carefully.   


“You know what would happen if I told you the future,” Draco replied. Severus merely nodded. 

“So what do you intend to do?” Severus asked. Draco took a deep breath.   


“Hideout here, I expect at least for now,” he said, finally deciding. There was nothing for it. He could not get himself back to his present, and as it stood, Rudolphus Lestrange could not get to him here in the past, or at least, Draco  _hoped_ he couldn’t. If nothing changed, however, Draco  _knew_ the Death Eater would come looking for him, which meant he would have to kill Lestrange before that happened. In less than a year’s time the Dark Lord and his followers (including Rudolphus) would be moving into the Manor, he would be easy enough to get to then, though Draco knew he had to come up with a plan in the meantime.   


“You can stay in my study,” Severus said. “I’ll transform a sofa into a bed for you, and you will make yourself useful!” he added sternly. Draco nodded. Even though they were the same age, Severus still intimidated him. Draco tried not to stare, tried not to betray a flicker of how much he appreciated seeing his godfather after all this time. How much he had missed him. Severus stood at once, and made his way towards his study, pausing at the doorway. 

“Will I survive this?” he asked, carefully, turned away from his godson. Draco sighed, and hung his head, he could not tell his godfather the truth, but the soft sigh that had escaped the man told him Draco’s silence had been all the confirmation he needed. “I will search for a way to send you back to your own time,” Severus said as Draco stood and made his way into the study. Draco shook his head.   


“I have work to do first. I need a year at least.”   


“Why would Lestrange send you back so far?”   


“To punish me, I’ve no doubt,” Draco said. Both men knew this was only half of the truth, but Draco could not,  _would_ not, tell his godfather the full truth. What all was expected of him. 

“Very well,” Severus said as he transfigured an overstuffed black sofa into a bed. “You would do well to keep your head down if you chose to leave this room. Do not interfere with your past self,” Draco nodded. His desire to throttle his past self and demand he do everything differently, notwithstanding, Draco wasn’t sure what would happen if he did that, so instead he opted to stay put. Everything else could be sorted out later. 

Climbing into bed, Draco pulled the curtains around his transfigured fourposter and closed his eyes. Willing himself to sleep, and not to dream of his father in prison, blood on a bathroom floor that he would not be able to stop, and the scent of fire that had never fully escaped his nostrils. 

 

— HP _Present_ —

Harry Potter was getting worried. It had been three days since anyone had seen Malfoy, and no one on the Auror department had seemed particularly worried about it. 

“He’s just an assistant, to the Under Secretary to the Minister,” Robards had said with a shrug. “He owled in his two weeks notice.” Harry frowned. _Something was off,_ he just knew it. He and Malfoy had not been particularly close by any means, but Malfoy loved his job, Harry had watched the blond enough growing up to know that. He was good at it too, even if he was merely an assistant. Not to mention, there had been tips, anonymous tips on various Death Eater related cases, written in a familiar scrawl that Harry _knew_ was Malfoy’s but had never said as much. Harry had kept the notes safely locked away in his cabinet, never revealing how it was he managed to always catch certain Death Eaters as fast as he had. 

Harry left the head Auror’s office, feeling equal parts perturbed, and determined. Determined to prove the man wrong, to find Malfoy and return him to his job. 

 

— DM _1996_ — 

“I’ve informed Albus that you are my apprentice,” Severus said that morning as the two took breakfast in Severus’s chambers. “I’ve taken the liberty of creating a few glamour potions for you. One that will darken your hair a bit more like my own, and darken your eyes. Nothing too drastic,” he promised noting Draco’s stunned expression. Draco nodded, not daring to speak. At least that way he would be able to come and go as he pleased, without fear. _Mostly._ Draco took the potions offered and drank them down with a disgusted shudder, they were as awful as Polyjuice, or so he’d heard. The changes were subtle, as promised, and as Draco stood before the transfigured mirror a few moments later, taking in his black hair and dark brown eyes, he could see almost what he would have looked like had his mother had more of Bella and Andromeda’s features. The black hair was cleaner than his godfathers, less greasy by far, though still long, and held in a high ponytail. The dark locks made his pale face stand out even more starkly Draco thought, and he vaguely wished to keep the look if he ever managed to make it back to his own time. 

“The glamour should last you through a day,” Severus assured him. _Far better than Polyjuice then,_ Draco thought. Or perhaps, Severus was that adept at potions. With any luck, Draco would stay long enough to ensure his godfather survived the war. Draco sucked in a deep breath as he pulled himself away from the mirror, and followed his godfather out of his chambers, towards the adjoining potions classroom. 

“Typically a potions apprentice would have started at the beginning of the year,” Severus said. “Luckily, I am an adept Occulumens and so Dumbledore was unable to ascertain why I was so eager to have you start _now_ rather than at the start of term next year,” Severus said. Draco nodded, as he helped Severus gather ingredients for the day’s lesson. “First period is our first years, I expect you’ll remember yours was the class after lunch,” Severus said. Draco nodded again.

“You will stay in my chambers for that class, do I make myself clear? Even with your glamor your past self could recognize you, and we cannot afford for such a thing to occur,” Severus said. Draco sighed and forced himself to nod a final time. “Very well, let's get to work.” 

* * *

Being a potion master’s apprentice was even more grueling than Draco had expected. Severus was not as rough with him as his former boss had been, but neither was he especially gentle with him, particularly when he’d demanded he disappear into Severus’s chambers immediately after lunch. Draco had dawdled slightly, wanting to catch a glimpse of himself; catching a glimpse of Potter instead. The two had stared at one another, recognition never meeting Potter’s eyes, though a curious wonder, had. Draco frowned as he took in the sight of the boy-who-lived. He was thinner than Draco had remembered him being in 5th year, less cocky and eager to show off than the boy Draco had remembered in his own mind. He looked oddly drawn and Draco knew this would only get worse as time went on. 

His own past-self was late, he now remembered. Severus cleared his throat loudly, and Draco snuck out of the room just as his past-self snuck in. 

“Who do you suppose that was?” Hermione had whispered to Harry. Harry merely stared at the spot where the raven-haired man had been, and shook his head, as the lesson began and Severus began to speak. 

When the lesson had ended, Severus had slipped into his chambers, his face grave. 

“What was the meaning of that?” Severus demanded. 

“I’m sorry!” Draco said, frowning. He hadn’t meant to nearly run into himself, but something about seeing Harry looking both younger than the last time he’d saw him, and yet impossibly too old for how old Draco knew he was and so gaunt had given Draco pause. He had never allowed himself to _worry_ for Potter’s wellbeing before, but Draco knew what was coming. Sirius’s death at the hands of his aunt. She had flooed directly into the Manor, cackling about what she had done, Draco had heard from his mother later. 

“Is this going to be a problem?” Severus demanded. “I always knew you held affections for the boy, but should I be concerned that you will endanger us all by doing something foolish?” 

Draco’s eyes widened. “I have never cared one whit about Potter. Nor do I now,” he lied.

“Do not lie to me, of all people Draco,” Severus said. “You know things he does not, but you cannot protect him.” 

“You did,” Draco said, against his better judgment. Severus let out a breath at that but said nothing. 

“Whatever you are thinking. You cannot tell him the future. You will not speak to him, nor look at him again. I warn you, affecting the past more than you already have will only lead to destruction.”

Draco sighed, he wanted to argue with his godfather. He wanted to keep Harry from having to endure everything that he knew was coming. But just as before, Draco would not be able to protect him, and the knowledge ate at him more than he was willing to admit. 

 

— HP _Present —_

A week, of nothing. _No one_ had seen Draco. Not his friends, nor his family. His father seemed oddly nonplussed about the whole thing, suggesting that Draco had no doubt fucked off to the continent with some paramour, though when Harry had asked if Lucius had received an owl at the very least to that effect, Lucius had merely snarled at demanded Potter leave his home at once. 

“Have you not destroyed my family enough?” Lucius demanded. 

Harry sighed, he was beginning to feel as though he was the only one who cared, though he could not have expressed why. 

Harry had cautiously approached Draco’s former friends, unsure the last time they had spoken, only to find them wholly unwilling to speak to an Auror, even off duty. 

“Since when have you ever given a shit about us?” Pansy Parkinson had demanded, before promptly slamming the door in Harry Potter’s face without bothering to wait for an answer. Harry had sighed. The next stop had been to see Blaise Zabini, who had been slightly more charitable though no less obfuscatory. 

“Pansy was always protective where Draco was concerned,” Blaise had said. “Naturally, we’re all a little shaken up by his disappearance. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know,” he said. Harry had almost looked hopeful at that. “ _If,_ you do a favor for me.” Harry snorted. He might have expected as much. 

“Oh?” 

“That redheaded friend of yours. Send him my regards, and an open invitation to join me at La Rose Sombre, for dinner. Tomorrow, eight pm.” Harry snorted. 

“But he’s not…” Harry had tried just as the wizard had turned on his heel and disapparated leaving Harry standing on the stoop of Zabini’s flat with a sigh. _Bloody perfect._ Harry turned on his heel and stalked down the small staircase, making his way across London. It was comforting to walk, when he was frustrated, Harry had found. Something he’d learned at the beginning of his fifth year. 

Harry paused, as a flash of memory from that year crossed his mind, turning on his heel, Harry disapparated with a loud crack and appeared in the Minister for Magic’s office. Hermione Granger raised an eyebrow at Harry’s slicing through the Ministry’s wards. Sirens blared loudly as a dozen Aurors scrambled into the room, Hermione held up a hand to stall the men, then pulling out her wand she waved it to silence the sirens. She gave Harry a hard look. 

“Well?” she demanded. 

“I know where Draco Malfoy is,” he said simply. Hermione exhaled a loud breath at that but allowed him to take a seat. 

 

— DM _1996_ —

Two weeks had passed quickly, and Draco found himself standing in front of Severus’s fireplace at the very time he _knew_ the incident at the Department of Mysteries would be taking place. Draco sighed. He wanted _desperately_ to stop it. His father’s capture and subsequent imprisonment had been a bit of a blow to the Death Eaters and had been the cause for him being expected to fix the situation by killing Dumbledore the following year. Which Draco had failed to do. 

Draco gripped the mantel tightly, he hated feeling so helpless. So useless, he wanted to tear out of the room, despite Severus’s wards to keep him there. Severus would be joining the Dark Lord soon, Draco had learned the full story of his godfather’s spying for the Order, for Dumbledore. Draco admired the man. 

As the clock struck 11, Draco sucked in a breath, he knew it would only be a matter of time before Rudolphus came looking for him, for nothing would have changed. His glamor had long since faded, and Draco was grateful for it. He could hardly stand to pace the length of his godfather’s study for one-second longer. Grabbing a handful of floo powder, Draco threw it into the flames, and called for the Head Master’s office, and stepped in. Green flames roared around him, and Draco vanished, reappearing seconds later into the Head Master’s office. Dumbledore had already gone to the Department of Mysteries, leaving Draco alone in the old man’s office, several sleeping portraits of various headmasters remained unaware of his presence, a fact for which Draco was immensely grateful as he slipped out of the Head Master’s office and made his way down the spiral staircase and past the humpbacked witch. He wasn’t sure exactly where he was going, only that he needed some space. The last three weeks trapped in the castle, in Severus’s office had been grating on Draco’s nerves. It felt too much like his house arrest, and the months he’d spent during the summer, forced to live under the same roof as the Dark Lord. Draco shuddered as he slipped through the gates and out of the grounds. No sooner had he approached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, did Draco hear the crack of apparition, Draco pulled out his wand to find Rudolphus standing before him, not the young version of the Death Eater, but the one from his own timeline, Rudolphus tsked. 

“I might have known you would be weak,” he hissed. 

“I couldn’t leave!” Draco tried to argue. The Death Eater merely glared. 

“Poor Malfoy. Always the _victim_ aren’t we?” he demanded, his wand outstretched and pointed in Draco’s direction. Draco swallowed, he wondered which of them would be faster, but before he could even think, he heard the man bellow, “CRUCIO!” Draco fell to the ground, his whole body wracked with pain as the spell his him hard. Draco ground his teeth, in an effort not to let out the scream that tried so hard to escape him. Draco was not unaccustomed to the Cruciatus Curse. He’d experienced it enough living at the manor under the Dark Lord that his nerves had been irreversibly fried in areas. There were times when Draco still couldn’t accurately gauge how hot or cold something was, not that he’d ever gone to St. Mungo’s about it. The spell didn’t let up, and Draco could feel the edges of the world going black as his body threatened to pass out from the pain. And then he’d heard it. 

“EXPELLIARMUS!” the voice that could have only been Potter’s echoed around Draco’s head. Rudolphus’s wand flew out of his hand. Draco groaned, he heard Potter cast another spell, “Stupefy,” but his whole body was still shaking from the last vestiges of the Crucio. Draco blinked, he needed to kill Rudolphus now before it was too late. 

Flexing his wand, he blinked, pointed at the black haired Death Eater and hissed,  “Avada Kedavra,” before he fainted.

* * * 

The world was far too bright, Draco thought when he awoke to find himself lying in the Hospital Wing. He almost laughed at the thought. It had been a long time since he’d been there, but he would not forget the place as long as he lived. He was alone, but the bright sunlight told him he was alive at least. Even if his body still felt vaguely as though it were on fire. 

Madam Pomfrey clucked above him. “You’ve gone through some intense spell damage Mr. Malfoy,” she said. Draco gasped, as he looked at the witch who merely raised an eyebrow. 

“I know all about you. Severus won’t be too pleased, nor will Albus when he finds out the truth, but when Mr. Potter brought you in here, I had to run preliminary tests. Imagine my surprise to find a thirty-three-year-old Draco Malfoy lying in my Hospital Wing when I’d just seen fifteen-year-old Draco at breakfast,” she said in that disapproving tone. Draco couldn’t help but laugh, though it pained him to do so. Madam Pomfrey clucked, disapprovingly at him again, but Draco couldn’t help but feel like dissolving into ridiculous laughter, for the situation, though it wasn’t funny, was so preposterous as to be laughable. 

“Drink this,” Madam Pomfrey said, handing him an orange colored potion. “It will reduce the tremors, though I suspect you’ve dealt with enough of the Cruciatus by now to know that already,” Draco nodded and swallowed down the potion. He hadn’t even noticed the tremors this time. But then, he noted bitterly, he hadn’t really felt much of his left hand as it was. “Had you dealt with it properly ages ago, you might not have lost as much nerve sensation as you have,” she said. Draco nodded but didn’t speak. Madam Pomfrey sighed, as she looked up. Draco followed her to find he had a visitor. Harry Potter stood awkwardly by the doorway, and Draco sighed as Madam Pomfrey looked at Draco expectantly. _What could he possibly say?_  he thought.He nodded all the same and Madam Pomfrey ushered the boy in. Harry stared for a long moment at Draco, who could barely bring himself to look at the boy as Madam Pomfrey left the room. 

“Who are you really?” Harry asked, barely above a whisper. 

Draco snorted, “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you,” Draco replied. 

“Try me, I’ve had a hell of an evening,” Harry replied. Draco almost laughed, then remembering Sirius, Draco frowned. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You know then?” Harry asked. 

“Yes,” Draco said. 

Harry huffed out a breath and Draco turned to him. “I can’t tell you who I am, but I think you know.” Harry took him in and nodded. “I’m sorry. For how I’ve treated you since, well forever,” Draco said. “I know sorry can’t possibly cut it, and though I can’t say how, it isn’t going to get better between us. But please believe me when I say it’s not personal, and I do apologize. I was a terrible person to you for my own foolish reasons, and I regret that.” 

Harry nodded, and before Draco knew what was happening, Harry had wrapped his arms around Draco’s neck, and Draco started crying. Because Harry’s forgiveness was all he’d ever wanted, and it had always felt so unattainable until then. A few moments later, Harry pulled away, leaving Draco to recuperate, per Madam Pomfrey’s request. 

 

— HP _Present —_

Hermione folded her arms across her chest, gesturing to the chair in front of her for Harry to take a seat, as she waved the Aurors off. “You came bursting into my office to tell me you know where Draco Malfoy is?” she said, her eyebrow raised. “You realize you’ve broken, I can’t even tell you _how_ many laws, not to mention shredded a hole in my wards that will take weeks to fix.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Well, you’d better start explaining,” Hermione said. Harry nodded. 

“Remember in our fifth year, Professor Snape’s Potion Assistant who appeared for the last half of the year?” 

“The one you kept staring at that no doubt facilitated your bisexual awakening?” she asked. Harry frowned but nodded. 

“It was him.” 

“Draco?” Hermione clarified. Harry nodded.”How? All the time turners have been destroyed.” Harry shrugged. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. 

“How did you know it was him?” 

“I saw him, with Rodolphus Lestrange, that night, after the Department of Mysteries. I went walking and saw… he was blond, like Malfoy. His hair still long, he looked more like Narcissa than Lucius.” Hermione nodded as Harry continued explaining what had happened that night, the conversation he and Draco had the next morning, he didn’t remember all the details, so many years later, but he knew enough to know that it had been Draco all along. Hermione sighed when at last Harry had finished speaking. 

“You realize of course that with Rodolphus dead, whatever curse he might have used to send Draco into the past died along with him. It’s no doubt ancient dark magic that almost no one would be able to replicate,” she said. Harry nodded, with a sigh. “I’ll contact the Unspeakables, see if they can get something going with this, but Harry you have to understand, there may not be anything that we can do.” Harry nodded, he knew she was right, but they _had_ to try. 


	2. Chapter 2

— DM _1996_ —

The school year ended quickly, after that. Leaving Draco rather unsteadily to wonder where he was to go in the meantime. Severus had already offered for him to stay with him at Spinner’s End, but Draco _knew_ Pettigrew would be there and as much as Draco did not want to affect the past any more than he already had, he knew seeing the wormy git would cause him to want to kill the man. As it was, Severus had been forced to dispose of Rodolphus’s body before questions had arisen. Nor could he stay at the school, or return to Malfoy Manor in his current state. He suspected he could still access the Malfoy family vault and in so doing rent himself a room at the Leaky for the unforeseeable future. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, as he apparated to the Leaky, and checked himself in with Tom the bartender. Assuming Lucius didn’t check the Malfoy vaults anytime soon, it was likely by the time he realized something was amiss Draco would be long gone back in his own time. Assuming the goblins didn’t alert Lucius to the suspicious activity. His magical signature being what it was, Draco suspected he would be safe at least for now, but something about offering his father’s name had made Draco’s palms sweat, not that he’d ever let on as much. Draco had not survived living under the Dark Lord by looking nervous under pressure, so instead, he remained, cool, calm, unaffected, and merely sneered at the man in the manner befitting a Malfoy. He did not offer explanations as to his presence in such an establishment, and fortunately, Tom didn’t ask, merely offering him a key, and Draco vanished up the stairs to one of the unfortunate series of rooms and made himself comfortable.

Severus had offered him a number of books to pass the time, and Draco was grateful to his godfather for it now, he hadn’t exactly come with a supply of clothes or anything of the like, and he wondered if he could convince Severus to knick a few of his clothes from the Manor. Draco was much the same size as he’d been in his later years at Hogwarts though, he suspected a touch taller. No matter, a quick spell could mend that easily enough.

In the meantime, Draco would have to figure out a way in which to fill his time, and hopefully, Severus might find something that might send him back to his own time. As it was, Draco tried to ignore the irony that in his own time, he’d been friends with a number of Unspeakables who would have, if not _gladly_ helped him, at least been interested in the experience from a purely logistical standpoint. It was no coincidence that the Unspeakable Department was made up of mostly Ravenclaw’s and a few more enterprising Slytherin’s. That Pansy counted herself among them, along with Theodore Nott, only served to make Draco’s heart clench at the thought that he didn’t know when he’d see his friends again. He suspected showing up at Parkinson Hall, or Nott Manor looking as he did would not go over particularly well. Even if his friends would recognize him, their parents surely wouldn’t, which meant Draco was stuck, friendless, in the past, working to find something to occupy his time while he waited for _someone, anyone_ to rescue him.

 

\-- HP Present --

“You realize, of course, I’ll have to suspend you,” Robbards had said upon Harry’s arrival back at his office. Word of his ripping through the Ministry’s wards, particularly the Minister for Magic herself’s wards, meant Harry had been in deep trouble. Harry nodded, hanging his head in an effort to look more apologetic than he knew he felt. Robards shook his head. “Three-week suspension, anyone else would have been fired on the spot, you understand that right?” Harry nodded. If he was honest, he was grateful for the break, it would give him more time to investigate this whole dark time spell. “I suggest you take a vacation and choose very carefully how important your job is, versus your quest to find Draco Malfoy,” the man said. Harry opened his mouth, considering arguing then thought better of it and merely nodded. “Dismissed,” the Head Auror said, waving Harry out of his office. Harry nodded and made his way out of the Head Auror’s office, to the lifts, and snuck down to the Unspeakables Department. Whatever the man had said, Harry _knew,_ finding Draco Malfoy and bringing him back to the proper time was the right thing to do.

The Unspeakables proved, unhelpful, Harry found, somewhat miserably. Sure there was Pansy, and she cared about Draco, despite her obvious distaste for Harry, but Pansy was not in charge in the Unspeakable department, neither was Theodore Nott and whatever interest their higher-ups might have had with regard to the prospect of such a spell, dark or otherwise, Harry had been denied outright.

“Whatever your current claim to fame might have suggested otherwise, I’m afraid the answer is no,” the Head Unspeakable, a man who almost reminded Harry of Malfoy in the sense that he was totally unimpressed with Harry altogether, and liked to offer him a cold sneer. In a different circumstance it might have been a turn on (he decided not to examine that thought to closely), as it was, Harry found himself annoyed at the rudeness of the man before him. He had half a mind to punch this man in the face _and wasn’t that more like his usual feelings for Malfoy_. How was it _no one in this godforsaken Ministry cared that one of their best assistants had just vanished?_ Harry wondered. Sure it was Malfoy, and sure he'd been a git, but he still had a family and people who cared about him and didn't just deserve to disappear forever. Harry wasn’t fully ready to admit that he missed the prat, but it was the principal of the thing. A ministry worker shouldn’t just go missing without anyone being concerned about it. Even if he _had_ owled in his two weeks notice.

Unbidden, and totally without Harry expecting it, another memory hit him, this one of Hermione during one of their earlier years at Hogwarts. _When in doubt, go to the library,_ she had said. The Ministry library would be tricky, there were ancient dark texts in there, but nothing he could check out and all of them under heavy surveillance, and then he remembered. Grimmauld Place had a library, and it had been previously been owned by the Black family, who was at least as dark as the Malfoy’s. He grinned, as he ran to the floo and made his way back home, flooing directly to the library of Number 12.

 

\-- DM _1996 --_

Severus had come to visit him a month into his summer stay at the Leaky. It was terribly boring, but Severus was keeping him abreast of everything that had been going on, the Dark Lord had moved into the Manor already, Draco felt a shiver run through him at the memory. His younger self would be taking the Mark soon. He wished he could protect himself from that, wished he could stop it from happening, and save his future self from having to deal with the consequences of actions he thought himself able to face.

In the cold light of post-war life, Draco had found most of his worst fears had come true. He had lost almost everything, save his friends. It was only through the grace of Harry Potter’s testimony on his behalf that his family had escaped Azkaban, but the stress of the life after Voldemort had proven too much for his mother, she’d died five years later. Draco considered all he’d fought for during the war. Why he’d even _agreed_ to take the Dark Mark in the first place. It had been to save his parents as much as himself, but the fact was, nothing could save them. His father was as unrepentant as ever, and though Draco would never admit as much aloud, he _hated_ his father for all he’d done.

“Don’t let me take the mark,” Draco said, grabbing Severus’s arm tight in his grasp. “I know you took the unbreakable vow for my mother to protect me when I was set to kill Dumbledore. Please, Severus. Help me. Don’t let me take the mark, let Dumbledore protect me, whatever it takes!” he said, there were tears in his eyes, and Draco felt something of deja vu as he stared at his godfather. Severus had always been like a father to him, and he realized that of all the things he’d lost during the war, and of all the things he missed the most, Severus was chief among them.

His godfather remained stoic in the face of Draco’s tears, just as he had and would when Draco was near death after the Sectumsempra incident that would happen in the next year. Draco pondered briefly whether or not any of that would still happen if he didn’t take the mark. Would Potter still have stalked him for the year if he wasn’t expected to kill Dumbledore?

“I make no promises,” Severus said. “It is expected to happen tonight. If I can convince the Dark Lord to suggest you spy on the Order, from the inside, perhaps I can spare you the mark altogether.” Draco hugged his godfather gratefully. He knew the man not to be a hugger, but Draco _needed_ to believe that if anyone could make it happen it was him. Perhaps if Draco _had_ stopped his father going to Azkaban, he might have saved his family the disgrace from the Dark Lord’s circle that had led to his taking the mark in the first place. But then, by January it wouldn’t matter. The Death Eaters would break out everyone, including his father.

Severus merely remained still in Draco’s arms, not daring to flinch or move, lest Draco insist on hugging him any longer than was strictly necessary. “I’m not sure when in your future you felt the need to hug people, but I do wish you’d cease it immediately,” his godfather said. Draco laughed in spite of himself.

Severus was all he had left. His final hope for the future, the only question was, would his godfather be able to pull off the impossible?

 

\-- HP _Present_ \--

Harry growled in frustration, his search was not going well, and it was the last week of his bloody suspension. He vaguely wondered if the Unspeakables hadn’t kept an emergency time turner, and whether or not he couldn’t sneak in and steal it from them, but of course, Harry knew better. Time turners didn’t work that way, at least not from his own personal experience. Going back in time was easy enough, but one would be stuck in whatever time they landed in, which meant that if he was going to grab Malfoy from the past he would have to do it through the same magical means he’d been sent there. Scrubbing his face with his hands, Harry stepped away from the library for the first time in the better part of two and a half weeks. His eyes burned from staring at pages upon pages of ancient text, most of which were still in Latin. The translation spells were questionable at best, but Harry had not been one of the better detectives in the DMLE for nothing.

Unfortunately for Harry, whatever traces of books on dark magic that had existed in the house had been likely eviscerated by the Order. He groaned, calling Kreacher for tea. He wondered what the odds were Lucius Malfoy would allow him into his home to search his library. He could claim official Auror business, the man was lucky the Ministry hadn’t seized the Manor after the war. Lucius was not a foolish man. He would demand to see an official decree that warranted Harry Potter’s presence from the Minister herself. Harry suspected he could swing that, though asking Hermione to do something potentially illegal would likely get him fired on the spot, so there was that. 

Tea appeared, less than a moment later, and Harry was pleased for it, though no less frustrated, what would he do if he couldn’t find Draco? Harry didn’t wonder when the man had stopped being Malfoy and had instead become Draco, but he had, and wasn’t that telling?

Harry sighed, finishing his tea, and decided to call it a night, looking up at the clock he saw that it was midnight on his thirty-fourth birthday, and he’d never felt less cheerful in his entire life. Harry sighed. _Bugger it all to hell._

 

\-- DM 1996 --

The following morning, there was a sharp rap on his door, Draco swallowed hard, hoping against hope that it would be Severus. Standing, Draco made his way to the door of his room and peered out the magical eyehole that allowed him to see out into the hall. There, standing impatiently on the other side of the door was none other than Severus Snape. Draco sighed gratefully, allowing his godfather entry into the room. Severus strode into the room, his robes billowing behind him in that trademark way that had always struck fear into his students and awe in Draco himself.

Severus wore a smirk as he took a seat on the chair across from Draco’s bed, and kicked his feet up on it. It was so unlike his godfather’s usual demeanor that Draco was half certain the man had been imperiused.

“Well, aren’t you going to congratulate me?” Severus said, with something that looked to be a cross between a smirk and a sneer. Draco eyed him.

“Were you able to do it?” he asked.

“See for yourself,” Severus said gesturing to Draco’s left arm. Draco swallowed, staring at the cloth covered arm, Draco spent as little time looking at his left arm as he possibly could, he _lived_ in long-sleeved coats, even in the dead of summer. Occasionally, Draco would catch glimpses of the mark while changing, or otherwise in the shower, but Draco hadn’t done more than sleep since Severus had left the previous evening, and Draco was almost too terrified to hope. It had occurred to him, rather perversely recently, that it was an odd circumstance that Draco’s marking was also Harry Potter’s birthday. He wondered if the Dark Lord knew that, and if it hadn’t been on purpose. With a deep breath, Draco squeezed his eyes shut, and rolled up the sleeve of his left arm. Severus remained silent, and Draco was forced to squint one eye open, it was gone.

The Dark Mark that had stained his skin for the better part of a decade was gone. Draco felt tears in his eyes, and he wanted to hug his godfather once more. Draco knew better, however, and instead, he kept his distance, swallowing back tears as best he could, as he stared for the first time in so many years ar the pale expanse of the skin of his left arm. No longer mottled by the hideous brand from the Dark Lord. Draco was finally free.  Vaguely Draco wondered whether or not Harry would have better memories of him now, he was starting to recall better memories of himself now he thought about it. Though, only just. Dumbledore’s offer of support. The Order’s initial mistrust. He almost laughed. Harry had still stalked him that year, though the Sectumsempra incident had not occurred so far as he could remember. Draco wondered vaguely if the future had been changed overly much because of his actions. The Dark Lord had still fallen as far as he could remember, and the timeline hadn’t seemed overly changed, which was fortunate all things considered. And Draco had the vague memory of being a touch more well-liked around the Ministry now, and then he saw it. He wasn’t sure when it had appeared, but it was as clear as day, a sterling silver band on his left hand, with a diamond on it that looked suspiciously like his mother’s engagement ring. Draco stared at the ring, then at his godfather and back down again.

Something had changed quite severely, he realized, though he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

 

-HP _Present_ \--

The morning of his birthday, Harry Potter awoke in a bed he did not recognize, looking around the room, Harry took in the bed curtains around the King Sized four-poster he was currently laying on. They were a deep purple, nothing like the crimson bedsheets he’d been sleeping on the night before. The room was a slate grey, not totally dissimilar from Grimmauld Place, but still, the bedroom was wider than he’d remembered. Climbing out of bed and to his feet, Harry looked around the room. There was a black velvet chaise lounge in front of the bed, he noted, with an orange kneazle sleeping comfortably on it. When had he gotten a pet?

Harry swallowed as he took in his new surroundings, and vaguely wondered what else was different about this place from Grimmauld Place? “Kreacher?” Harry called, tentatively. He wondered if the old house elf would still come. To Harry’s dismay, however, the gnarled old house elf did not appear, instead, in his place, was a different house elf. This one far younger, with brilliant large green eyes. Harry gasped. “D-dobby?” he asked.

“How can Dobby be of assistance to Master Harry?” the house elf squeaked. Harry wondered if he wasn’t having a nightmare. Sure it had started pleasant enough, but it would only be a matter of time before the house elf was bleeding in his arms, accusing him of letting the elf get killed. But no such thing happened. Harry swallowed, “Wh--where am I?” he asked.

“Malfoy Manor, master Harry sir,” the house elf squeaked again.

“M--Malfoy Manor?” Harry repeated. The house elf nodded, and Harry stared, completely dumbfounded.

“Is there anything else you be needing master Harry? Master Draco will be wanting his things in order upon his return.”

“Draco’s here?” Harry asked. The house elf shook his head, sadly.

“No sir, he’s been missing for weeks, but Dobby knows that when he comes back, he’ll be wanting his things in perfect order as always sir,” the house elf replied. Harry stared helplessly down at the elf.

“Dobby. I don’t suppose you know of any time magic that could send someone to the past, and bring them back?” Harry asked, deciding to try his luck. The house elf looked at him dismally, and Harry _knew_ he didn’t. “Right, thanks anyway,” he said. The house elf nodded and bowed low.

“You’ll be expected at Hogwarts tomorrow sir, do not forget.”

“Hogwarts?” Harry asked.

“You are to be the Defense teacher,” Dobby explained. _Teacher?_ When had that happened? “You is forgetting your promise to Master Draco already isn’t you?” he asked. Harry searched his brain, somewhere in there he could remember a conversation from six months earlier. Harry had come back three weeks late from a mission that was only supposed to take five. Draco had been worried sick, he looked like he hadn’t slept in the entire time Harry had been gone, and between abject fury, Draco had given him an ultimatum.

“I can’t sit around waiting to see when you won’t come home again,” Draco had said. “Not after…” he had trailed off in the middle of his sentence but Harry already knew what he meant. Draco had drunkenly confessed that watching Harry play dead in Hagrid’s arms had nearly done him in. He had somehow managed to hold himself upright, despite the feeling that he desperately wanted to curl into a ball and sob for the next hundred years. What a relief it had been then, to see Harry spring up moments later, grab his wand and slay the Dark Lord in one fell swoop. Draco had been madly in love with him ever since. Harry had nodded, holding his husband in his arms, and promised that he would leave the DMLE. He would give up the Aurors if it meant losing Draco. Draco had stared at him disbelieving for a long moment.

“I didn’t really like it anyhow,” Harry had said, and as Harry thought on the memory he was surprised to realize how true it was. The elf stared at Harry expectantly, and Harry smiled despite himself.

“I didn’t forget,” he promised. The elf nodded, and with a crack, he vanished, leaving Harry alone in his bedroom, staring down at the gold band on his left hand. It was odd how happy the whole thing made him feel. How right, and perfect it all seemed, and he knew now, without a shadow of a doubt that Draco was somehow affecting the past, and whatever he was doing, it had been the right thing. But then, why had Draco still vanished?

Whoever had cast the spell, Harry still hadn’t worked that part out, had obviously still managed to cast it, somehow, and Draco was, as far as Harry knew, still stuck in the past, though for the life of him he couldn’t figure out how or why. Sighing, Harry padded out of the bedroom and made his way down the stairs towards the dining room, where Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy sat taking breakfast. _Well, this just gets stranger and stranger,_ Harry thought as he approached, still in his bed things, much to Lucius’s displeasure and Narcissa’s amusement.  Harry didn’t know why, but somehow he hadn’t expected to be living with his in-laws like this. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he vaguely recalled a conversation with Draco in which he had suggested Harry would have happily lived with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for a time had he married Ginevra. Harry had argued that it was totally different, but Draco had merely shrugged. Promising they would keep to the East Wing, and they wouldn’t see each other much. Harry knew now, that this had been a lie, still as far as he could remember things had been civil enough. Narcissa had still lied to the Dark Lord in the end, totally unaware of her son’s switching sides. Lucius had remained out of it, but upon the revelation that Draco had been a spy for the Order, had quickly claimed all the credit. Harry had not believed this for a second, but he had defended the Malfoy’s before and though it never came to it, he would have done so again, he knew.

Harry sat down to breakfast, preparing for what he suspected would undoubtedly be an awkward meal. Narcissa was always nice to him, but Lucius was, cold to him at best, and ignored him outright on most occasions, and that was _with_ Draco as a buffer. Now he was missing, Harry knew it would only get worse.

This version of Draco’s parents was far more concerned for their son’s well being, that much Harry could clearly see, though this fact had done little to endear Lucius to Harry all the same. He remembered a row between him and the elder Malfoy, Lucius claiming that Potter had endangered his son’s life, and suggesting he was the reason Draco was now missing. Harry had bristled at the accusation, for it was neither fair, nor true, and it had only been stopped by Narcissa intervening.

“We all want the same thing here,” she had said. “To see Draco back alive. Harry had been grateful to the witch for being the voice of reason. Now, however, Harry had begun to see the cracks in her otherwise impenetrable facade. Narcissa looked worn and gaunt, as though she hadn’t slept in months since her son had gone missing. Whereas Lucius had always seemed able to keep his feelings tucked away where no one could reach them, Narcissa, at least where her son was concerned, couldn’t. 

Breakfast was as awkward as Harry had anticipated. Lucius had been cold and distant and privately Narcissa had wished Harry, Happy Birthday, all the same. Harry had thanked her, and escaped towards his room. He paused as he approached the library. He couldn’t remember if he’d searched it yet. Harry snuck inside. He just hoped he could find Draco before the blond settled into his new life and thought to find someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I made a point of pointing out the biggest plot hole of Cursed Child in this. As I recall time turners working in POA you didn't just simply bounce back to your time, otherwise what would be the point? Everything hinged on the plot point that Hermione was initially using it to go to two classes at once if she were to appear in the same time she'd left after it was all over that would be kind of counter productive not to mention, she'd run into herself.   
> Is this a weird place to include a rant about Cursed Child? Perhaps, but it felt relevant in the context.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry in advance this chapter is about half the length that the previous two have been. I never have any specific place in mind for where to end a chapter, but in this case it felt fitting to kind of pause where I did. I'd like to include an epilogue which I'm not sure if I'll do as part of the next chapter or as it's own stand alone chapter. Thank you to everyone for the love and support.

\-- DM September _1996_ \--

Returning to Hogwarts after an interminable few months away was bittersweet for Draco. On the one hand, it was like returning home after what had felt like an eternity away, on the other, the realization that he was now married to Harry, but kept away by time was more heartbreaking than he thought he could bare at present. To say nothing of the fact that he had been virtually confined to the Slytherin dungeons by his godfather. It was better this way, he knew. Running into his younger self would not end well for either party involved, and running into a younger Harry would only leave Draco in tears.

He didn’t sleep well the first night. Severus’s quarters were nothing like the Slytherin dorms he’d enjoyed for years, and he couldn’t help but feel inexplicably pulled, as if by some invisible force, to wander the halls, though what he was searching for he couldn’t say. A small, seemingly insignificant part of him felt as though he could almost feel his Harry here. It had not escaped his notice that a memory of the two of them arguing about Harry's being an Auror had lead to Harry at long last accepting a position as the Defense teacher for the coming year. Harry  _would_ be here, he reminded himself. 

Draco wondered as he wandered the halls if Harry was doing the same if he was searching for Draco too. Draco looked around and froze as he stared at the blank expanse of wall that had haunted his nightmares for the better part of fifteen years. The Room of Requirement. Untouched by fiendfyre, though not for long. Draco closed his eyes. _I need a place in which I can speak to my husband,_ he thought. When he opened his eyes, a door had appeared. The same door he had seen so many times before. Swallowing, Draco slipped through the door and vanished behind it.

The room provided was simple enough. A writing table, parchment, several quills, and emerald ink, _how fitting,_ and a simple stool. Draco crossed the room and perched himself on the stool. _Would it even work,_ he wondered nervously.  _Would the letter survive the fiendfyre? And… even if it did, would he even be able to get anything back?_ For a brief moment, Draco considered leaving, but the burning ache in his chest to be somehow closer to his husband forced his hand. He had to try. Even if it was ridiculous. Even if it was impossible. He needed the hope, so he picked up his quill, dipped it into the ink, and began to write. Tears fell down his cheeks as he did so.

_It was cathartic if nothing else_ he thought. Draco didn’t know how long he’d spent there, just writing, but eventually, he finished up his letter with a flourish and folded it on the table. _Protect it._ He thought to the room. _I know that what I’ve done hasn’t changed, but know that it was never my intention to hurt you._ Draco slipped from the room, touched the wall gently, and made his way back to the dungeons. His nightmares filled with flames, and a small touch of something that felt like hope despite it. 

 

\--HP Present--

The Malfoy library was vast, Harry realized, more books on dark magic than any one family could possibly need, and any one person could possibly look through. By the second week, Harry had opted to approach his father-in-law. If there were specific books on time magic, Lucius would know of them. Steeling himself, Harry made his way towards Lucius’s study and knocked.

“Yes,” the man replied, his tone clipped. Harry entered the room, and Lucius raised an eyebrow at him. “Mr. Potter, what can I do for you?” Harry opened his mouth, considering arguing that it was Malfoy-Potter now, he’d opted to take the Malfoy name after all, but thought better of it and kept his mouth shut.

“I was wondering if you could help me with something. Only, I’ve been trying to research where I’m pretty sure Draco is. Or rather… when.”

“Oh?” Lucius asked with an eyebrow raised. Harry swallowed.

“As far as I can gather, he was sent back in time by some sort of curse.” Lucius’s eyes lowered.

“And you didn’t tell me this, why?” he demanded. Harry considered this, but for the life of him, beyond his father-in-law’s endless hatred for him, he couldn’t say. Lucius pushed past him and made his way out of the room towards the library, Harry fast at his heels.

“It was, revenge,” Harry said. “Bellatrix’s husband. He wanted to get back at me, for his wife.”

Lucius growled, “So I _was_ correct. It _was_ all your fault my son is missing!” it was the most emotional Harry had ever heard his voice. Harry sighed, he had been feeling guilty about it for weeks, and hearing Lucius’s accusation only made things worse.

“I never meant to make his life more dangerous…”

Lucius froze, rounding on Harry with a glare, “Don’t you dare play the victim here boy! You’ve endangered my son’s life from the moment he fell for those godforsaken eyes,” he snarled turning back around storming through the Manor towards the library. “I _knew.”_ he laughed. “Gods from the moment I heard your name that first year, I _knew_ you’d be trouble, and you never disappointed me once in that regard,” Lucius continued speaking as he looked through several books at the far end of the library that Harry hadn’t even gotten to yet. “ _So cocky._ So, sure you knew everything, and that you were the only one who mattered. He was so clearly head over heels even back then,” Lucius snorted. “Nothing I could ever have said would have mattered. Even if he _hated_ you, it warred against his love for you and that won out in the end. And now… now because of you, he’s trapped in the past!” he snorted grabbing a dark black leather tome that was written in runes. Harry might have known it would be the one thing he’d never bothered to learn. “I want you to know that you have never, and will never be good enough for my son. No matter that you saved the world. You are not even worthy to kiss his feet, and yet, I will help you,  _not_ because I approve, or like you but because I know the price I will pay should I try to come between you," he sneered. Harry grit his teeth, feeling hot tears burning at the back of his eyes at Lucius's words. He refused to show weakness before this man. He had never expected Lucius's respect, but he had hoped after all this time he could somehow earn it. Lucius thrust the book at him and Harry exhaled the breath he'd been holding. “You’ll need to be in the same place he is now in order for it to work,” Lucius said. “Where is the last place you saw him?”

“Hogwarts,” Harry replied.

“Then start there,” Lucius replied, handing him the book.

“But I can’t read…”

“Then you’d better learn!” Lucius said, as he turned on his heel and vanished from the library, leaving Harry alone with the book of Runes. Harry looked down at the book mournfully. Lucius had marked the page with a spell. There was nothing for it, he would need to see Hermione, he just hoped the Minister wasn’t too busy.

* * *

“No, absolutely not,” Pansy said, from her spot at the desk in front of the Minister’s office, filing her nails. Harry looked down at her, pleadingly.

“But it’s important,” he argued.

“She’s the Minister for Magic, Potter. It’s always important,” Pansy replied. “Besides which, _you_ being the boy-who-lived, former Auror, _and_ her friend does not give you special privileges. You’ll have to make an appointment just like everyone else.”

“When’s her next opening then?” Harry asked.

“Two weeks from now. In 2029,” Pansy said off the top of her head.

“Oh for the love of bloody hell! It’s about Draco!” he said, trying to appeal to her Slytherin side. “I can get him back, but I need her help!” Pansy set down her nail file, getting to her feet.

“I’ll see what I can do, at most you’ll have ten minutes,” turning on her heel, Pansy slipped into the Minister’s office.

Hermione was currently on a conference call when Pansy perched herself at the edge of the Minister’s desk, crossing her legs over one another so her short black skirt rode further up her thighs. Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Jim, I’ll have to call you back, something just came up,” Hermione said hanging up the phone before the man could respond.“You’re very distracting,” the Minister said, as she stood, leaning over her secretary to hang up the phone, Pansy smirked, uncrossing her legs, and wrapping one of them around the other witch’s waist, as she leaned in so their lips were almost touching.

“Harry Potter is here to see you,” Pansy said.

“Oh bloody hell, you tease,” Hermione said with a laugh. She sighed, giving her girlfriend a peck on the lips, as Pansy hopped off the desk. “Right, show him in then,” she said. Pansy smiled back at the Minister before she turned and opened the door, gesturing for Harry to come in, then slipped out behind her.

Hermione looked rather crossly at her friend as she folded her arms over her chest. “Well well well, my former best Auror. To what do owe the pleasure?” she asked hotly.

Harry took a seat across from her and pulled the shrunken book from his pocket, before sliding it across the table at her. Hermione tapped her wand against it, and the book grew to it’s usual size. The page they needed was glowing, and Hermione eyed Harry suspiciously.

“You called me out of a conference with the American President for this?” she asked.

“I don’t know runes,” Harry replied. Hermione sighed, pulling on her reading glasses as she opened the book to the proper page and looked it over. “It’s a time spell,” Hermione said, as she looked up at him. “Very, dark magic by the looks of it. Ancient too. Before the first time turner. Harry where did you get this book?” she asked.

“Does it matter?” Hermione looked up at him, Harry had never been one to defend Lucius Malfoy to anyone, let alone hide his identity when it seemed he might be up to something nefarious, but right now Harry needed to get Draco back, more than he wanted to throw his father-in-law under the bus and decided that the best course of action would be to _not_ explain where the book had come from. “Can you translate it?”

“Eventually. There’s a lot to this. It could take weeks, or months, and I’m especially busy. Why not have an Unspeakable look at this?”

Harry sighed. “It’s about Draco,” he said. “I really don’t trust anyone else to do this, and I understand that your busy, and I wouldn’t even ask you, but I’m desperate Hermione. I need to have him back here.” Hermione took off her glasses, carefully folding the arms of them and placing them on the desk beside her.

“I’m sorry for all you’ve gone through Harry. I know that things have been rough for you for a long while. But decoding Runes takes time. Time I simply don’t have as Minister for Magic. This meeting alone is cutting into something else I could be doing. You have to understand.” Harry nodded, as he pulled the book back and shrank it back down.

“Thank you Minister,” Harry said as he stood. Hermione frowned at her friend, and held out her hand.

“Oh bloody hell, give it here! You know I can’t resist the chance to decode something anyway,” she said. Harry beamed, as he handed her over the shrunken tome once more.

“Thank you,” Harry said excitedly, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“Just remember this when I need the boy-who-lived to show up to some Ministry function.”

“I’ll show up to whatever you want,” Harry promised grinning.

“Can I get that in writing?”

“I’ll have your girlfriend write it up,” Harry said, at this Hermione laughed.

“Who would have thought, the Golden Trio, and the Silver Trio. You and Draco married, Ron and Blaise engaged, and me dating Pansy.”

“You planning to propose?” Harry asked.

“I’m up for re-election Harry. I’m not sure the world is ready for an openly lesbian Minister for Magic.”

“They accepted me okay, and I saved the world,” he teased.

“Yes well, you were never really ready to be a leader,” she said.

“Your Slytherin is wearing off on you,” Harry replied.

“You have _no_ idea,” Hermione said almost dreamily. Harry chuckled.

“Right. Thanks again ‘Mione. You’re a life savor.”

Hermione sighed, “Tell that to my girlfriend when my nose is buried in a book and she murders you because she hasn’t gotten any three months from now.”

Harry laughed, as he turned on his heel, stepping out just in time to see Pansy glaring. “I heard that,” she said, flinging a stinging hex at him just as he made his way out of the Minister’s office, and towards the lifts. Harry merely grinned, feeling impossibly hopeful. Everything was going to work out he thought.

* * *

Hogwarts was quiet without the imminent threat of a megalomaniac planning to kill you hanging over your head, Harry thought, as he found himself almost running late to his first teachers meeting.

Harry had been distracted since he’d arrived that morning, pulled in several different directions, and with the unmistakable feeling that there was something important he needed to be doing, though for the life of him he couldn’t think of what. After the meeting had ended, and Harry had taken in almost none of the information presented to him, Harry found himself wandering the still quiet halls of Hogwarts. It would be a month yet before the students arrived and lessons started, and it had been years since Harry had just wandered Hogwarts like this. With no one around to judge him, or hex him, or get him in trouble. Still, as Harry ran into Mrs. Norris somewhere around the 7th floor he couldn’t help but feel as though he were about to be chastised for roaming the halls when he shouldn’t be. Fortunately, that time never came. The cat happily turned on its heel, and walked in the other direction.

Harry sighed as he kept on moving, finding himself drawn to the lone wall across from him. Harry stared at the blank expanse of wall, images of fiendfyre zipping through his mind. Harry closed his eyes and pushed them aside. _I need a place I can speak to my husband,_ Harry thought, not totally sure where the words had come from. Moments later, a door appeared, Harry stepped inside. The room was largely empty, save a small green couch, upon which a letter was perched.

Harry walked over to the couch, sitting down on it, as he looked at the letter. The edges looked somewhat scorched, but otherwise fine. Harry opened it quickly:

_My dearest Harry,_

_I hope this letter somehow reaches you from the past. I tried to think of some way, some how I could possibly communicate with you, and found myself drawn here. Scary sitting here, knowing what will befall this place soon enough. I guess from your perspective, it’s already happened though. I feel closer to you somehow here. It’s as if your magic seeps through these walls. You’re a part of this place as much as you're a part of me._

_Gods I miss you._

_Have things changed much due to my personal changes? I’ve tried not to alter too much with the past, and yet there was one thing I knew I desperately needed to fix._

_I have all these memories of us now, you wrapping me up in your arms, and holding me close to your chest as we both fell asleep in front of the fireplace at the Manor. An entire fifteen years of different memories after the war. It’s both refreshing and heartbreaking, and knowing that you are so near, quite literally as your 16 year old self is no doubt stalking my 16 year old self at this very moment, and yet… the you that is my husband is so very far away._

_I hope you can find me._

_I plan to come to the Room of Requirement to write to you as much as I can. Do you feel me here? I almost think I can feel you._

_All my love._

_Yours,_

_Draco._

Harry could feel tears at the edges of his eyes at that. He needed to find him, and soon, Harry thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea that Hogwarts is able to bring them togther even in a small way. Hogwarts very much brought them together in the first place so it's only fitting it brings them together now.


	4. Chapter 4

\-- HP Present—

 

The days passed with unbearable slowness for Harry. Sitting on his hands and waiting had never been his strong suit, and it was taking everything in him not to firecall the Ministry and ask Hermione what was taking her so long, as the calm September nights dragged into October. The only thing that seemed to be keeping Harry going was Draco’s frequent letters, though he was certain his own missives had not managed to go through, as yet. Harry frowned at the thought, as he sat on the couch in the Room of Requirement, reading over Draco’s latest. 

_My dearest Harry,_

_A month into the new term and I’m told your 16-year-old self is already stalking mine. Severus is fully annoyed, but being that I know where this goes, I asked him to please ignore it. I think it’s pained him greatly to do so, such is the love of my godfather for me. I’m not sure what would happen if someone were to intervene in your stalking but despite what I felt at the time I know now that it’s better not to find out. I almost can’t remember a time before we were married, can you?_

_I know our history wasn’t always good, but I can’t help but feel as though this was always where we were meant to be._

_Until we meet again._

_All my love._

_Yours,_

_Draco Malfoy-Potter_

_Ps: I’ll never tire of seeing our names combined like this._

Harry stared at the letter, reading it over again, tears welled up in his eyes. He _needed_ to ensure that his note would get through to Draco, he thought determinedly, though he knew the other man knew what Harry felt for him, it pained him to think that Draco might feel forgotten, or otherwise that Harry wasn’t trying hard enough, pouring all his magic into his letter, Harry hoped against hope it would finally find Draco. 

 

\--DM _1996_ —

 

Writing to Harry from the Room of Requirement had quickly become an almost nightly habit for Draco, by the second week he’d penned dozens of letters, never sure if any of them were getting through, or if Harry would ever be able to respond. He had to keep hope however, it was the only thing keeping him going. More than any place in Hogwarts, Draco could feel Harry in this room. The Room of Requirement had been the room where Harry had taught Dumbledore’s Army how to cast a Patronus, and where Harry would save Draco’s life from the fiendfyre, where Harry and Draco would share so many kisses, and in eighth year, so much more. The Room of Requirement had become their sanctuary. Their safe place, and though it still housed the horrifying memories of the past, it had become almost healing to visit as part of their future. If he closed his eyes, Draco was certain he could almost sense Harry in the room, he could almost picture his warm arms wrapped around him as the two slept on a bearskin rug in front of the fire. Or hear the whispered words Harry spoke to him often. Draco shuddered at the memory. Opening his eyes, he noticed a letter that had dropped down from the ceiling, onto the floor beside the writing desk with a soft pop. Draco ran to the letter, almost scared to allow himself the hope. _Could it be?_ He wondered, bending down to pick up the letter. There, in the messy scrawl that could _only_ be Harry’s, was Draco’s own name.

_Draco Malfoy-Potter._

Draco’s heart soared as he tore open the note.

_My dearest Dragon,_

_I can’t begin to tell you how much I’ve missed you. Hogwarts just isn’t the same without you taunting me. Or me stalking you. Being back here, I find myself flooded with memories of us._

_I’m amused by your tale of Severus’s woes of my stalking you. As I recall, our first kiss occurred that year, when I saw you sobbing in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. I wish I had appreciated sooner what you were dealing with, and how much you had to carry on your shoulders, trying to be a double agent for the Order. Those months in seventh year without you were the longest of my life until now, at least then there was occasional hope of you finding us to deliver some bit of news from the Death Eater camp._

_Just know that I will do everything I can to find you and bring you back to me if it’s the last thing I do. I would kill Rudolphus myself if anyone knew where he was. I miss you._

_All my love._

_Also yours,_

_Harry Malfoy-Potter._

_Ps: I also love seeing our names combined this way._

Draco clasped his hand to his mouth as he stared down at the letter. It was all he could do not to sob. Harry had missed him, he had written back! Draco hugged the letter to his chest, letting the silent tears fall as he thought about his husband, and the difficult road they’d taken to get to where they now were.

When he opened his eyes again, the table that usually stood in the middle of the room had vanished, replaced instead by an ornate mirror. Draco gasped, he knew this mirror. He remembered Harry talking about it, about how dangerous it was, and exactly what it did. Still, he was curious. Holding his breath, Draco approached the ornate gold mirror and stared into its reflection.

Staring back at him, stood a Draco Malfoy dressed similarly to himself, though in impossibly better clothes, chicer, perhaps the latest fashion, Draco suspected. He hadn’t really worried about it being stuck in the past. Beside him, Harry stood proudly with one arm wrapped around Draco’s waist, possessively, while another hand held up an adorable blond-haired boy with mesmerizing emerald eyes. The mirror Draco held his hand across his stomach, as he and Harry beamed back at Draco.

He swallowed hard, he couldn’t seem to look away, this was the life he’d always wanted with Harry, and the life he felt was just out of reach. Somewhere Draco could hear Harry’s voice reminding him that it wasn’t real, that the mirror could only show your desires but not reality and that sometimes reality was much better.  

With some amount of effort, Draco forced himself to turn away from the mirror, his heart clenched in his chest as he walked out of the Room of Requirement, never daring to look back, for he knew that if he did, he would likely stay there, forever, ensnared by the world in which he felt unable to have.

Draco didn’t return to the Room of Requirement for a week after that. He just couldn’t seem to face the possibility of seeing the mirror there again. When the thought however of missing another of Harry’s letters occurred to him, Draco forced himself to return. The mirror was gone, and Draco was grateful for it.

 

\--HG _Present_ —

 Hermione Granger was sitting on her bed, reading over the last of the runes, when she yelled excitedly, nearly scaring her girlfriend, and their crup off the bed in the process, “I’m brilliant!” the witch said excitedly.

Pansy grinned kissing her girlfriend’s shoulder, “I always thought so.” Hermione laughed, as she leaped off the bed. “Oh darling, it’s midnight. Can’t this possibly…”

“I have to see Harry now. If he finds out I went to bed without telling him he’ll never forgive me.” Pansy frowned but nodded. She had always admired her girlfriend’s loyalty to her friends. Loyalty was a trait shared by _most_ in Slytherin house, though somehow not her family. Draco had certainly learned that, as had Pansy herself, so Hermione’s uncanny ability to drop everything for Harry was always something that Pansy couldn’t exactly fault her for. Even if it did drive her stark raving mad at times. Pulling on a robe over her nightgown, Hermione walked over to their floo and stepped through, appearing in Minerva’s office seconds later, much to the witch’s surprise.

“Oh, good evening Minister,” the headmistress said. “I’m terribly sorry we didn’t expect to see you here. To what do we owe the pleasure?” Hermione smiled at the headmistress.

“I’m not here on a political visit. I need to see Harry actually,” she said. Minerva nodded, as Hermione made her way out of the office, past the humpbacked witch and towards the Defense classroom, and the side corridor where Harry’s rooms would be. Rapping smartly on the door, Hermione held the paper behind her back and waited.

Seconds later the door opened, and Harry’s eyes widened as he took in his friend.

“Have you…” Hermione held up the piece of paper with a triumphant grin. Harry grinned back at her, pulling her into his arms, and into his room. “When… how?”

“Just now, I’m brilliant is how,” Hermione replied.

Harry merely laughed, “That you are.”

“It’s a very complex spell,” she assured him. “You’ll have to be in the same place at the same time, and given the nature of it, it might be best to wait till Halloween, when the veil between all worlds is thinnest.” Harry nodded, as he took the paper from her and read over the spell. It was significantly more complicated than he’d anticipated, the wand work alone looked like he could use the next two weeks just for practice, to say nothing of the incantation itself. Harry smiled gratefully at his friend, and the two spent the next two hours catching up.

 

\--DM 1996—

 

It was a week until Halloween when Draco received Harry’s second, urgent letter, the note divebombed from the top of the Room of Requirement, and for a brief moment Draco wondered whether or not he wasn’t about to be knocked unconscious by the note which was apparently instructed to seek and destroy. Several inches from his nose, however, the letter stopped and unfurled itself not unlike a Howler. Draco paused, half expecting to hear Harry’s voice coming from the letter. Instead, Draco only saw normal words and realized that it was not, in fact, a howler. Plucking the letter out of the air, Draco read it quickly.

 

_Dragon,_

_Hermione’s translated the spell, found by your father, oddly enough. It’s going to be tricky. We’ll both need to be in the same place at the same time, the Room of Requirement makes the most sense, at midnight on Halloween. The veil will be the thinnest then. I’m sending this on a copy of the time spell so we can cast it together, on the third strike of midnight. It’s_ imperative _we get this right in order for you to come back home._

_All my love._

_Yours,_

_Harry._

Draco read the letter over twice more just to be sure he’d understood it properly. One week. In one more week, Draco would be back in Harry’s arms. He had hardly allowed himself to hope for a proper end to this madness. His father had found the spell and Hermione had translated it, it was all finally going to be okay, Draco thought happily. Everything was going to be perfectly fine.

Draco left the Room of Requirement feeling decidedly lighter than he had in months. It was all going to be over in a matter of a week, all he had to do was make it through the rest of the week without going stir crazy and it would all be over.

No sooner had Draco stepped out of the Room of Requirement, however, than he had found himself with a hood tossed over his head, and hit with a stupefy. The world went black around him, and the last thought Draco had before he fell unconscious was that of Harry.

 

* * *

“Enervate!” a strange voice boomed. The spell hit Draco like a brick and Draco felt vaguely like he might throw up. Blinking, Draco took in the room before him, confused. Everything was black. The walls, the floors, all the same shiny black tile that seemed to reflect his face back at him. In front of him, two men stood, both wearing long black robes. _Unspeakables. Shit._ Draco swallowed hard. He’d been tied to a chair, and the Unspeakables in question (not ones that Draco recognized) were eying him rather suspiciously. “Draco Abraxus Lucius Malfoy-Potter,” the one Unspeakable who had cast the spell to wake him up said. “Age 34, and also 16. Thought we wouldn’t find you, eh?” the Unspeakable demanded. His partner, a man with dusty blond hair remained decidedly silent. Draco didn’t like this line of questioning a bit.

“You obviously know everything, so why bother asking?” Draco said, he knew now wasn’t the time to be cocky but then, he’d just been kidnapped and brought to the Ministry. He wondered if Fudge was still minister and if it would matter to his cause. Fudge had always liked his parents, he’d been to many a Manor function in the past. Then he remembered, Rufus Scrimgeour was Minister, had been since February at least. Scrimgeour hadn’t liked the Malfoy’s and as such had likely been the reason for Draco’s kidnap. _Shit, shit shit!_ How long had he been down here? How long _would_ he be down here? There was no way to know, and unlike several months before there was no Harry Potter to swoop into the DOM now.

“It’s best if you cooperate, Mr. Malfoy,” the sandy-haired man continued. “You’ve done irreparable damage to history with the changes you’ve made. Not taking the Dark Mark completely affected the timeline of our world, we can’t help but worry that chaos will follow in your ranks because of it.”

Draco snorted. “Far be it for me to spoil the future boys, but if you know I’m married to Harry Potter, then you must know that he wins the war and therefore my taking the mark didn’t affect anything.”

“Many lives perished for Harry to get to where he was when he killed the Dark Lord, and still many more survived now because of your changes. We have no way of knowing what far lasting effects your actions may have caused.”

“What like a second coming of the Dark Lord via some child no one knew about?” Draco said, hotly. The Unspeakables shared a look but said nothing.

“You being here has put our world in danger. We have no choice, but to reverse the damage you’ve done, and execute you before you can wreak further havoc.” Draco’s eyes widened.

“But,” he stammered, trying to think on his feet. “You can’t kill the husband of Harry Potter. Have you any idea what he’d do to you once he found out?” Draco asked, trying to sound braver than he felt, as he experimentally tried to wiggle out of his restraints. The Unspeakables had taken his wand, though Draco had a vague recollection of some wandless magic Harry had taught him during seventh year. Not to mention numerous defensive spells. _Too bad I wasn’t paying attention,_ he thought.

“Given the circumstances, we feel the wrath of Harry Potter is less dangerous than what you have done here,” the Unspeakable said.

“My father can pay you. Whatever you want. We’re very rich, you know,” Draco said stupidly. He didn’t think it was above the Unspeakables to be greedy, but Draco knew if they had wanted a ransom they would have asked for one. The bonds behind his back had loosened, and Draco was entirely sure he could slip free, but the Department of Mysteries was not his domain as it was theirs. He’d only been down here a handful of times since he’d worked for the Ministry and each time was always more bizarre than the last.

“We do not need money,” the Unspeakable said as he pulled out his wand. “We simply wish to eradicate a problem.” Draco closed his eyes, praying to Salazar that he could find _some_ way out of this before it was too late, then he remembered. “Dobby,” he said barely above a whisper. With a crack, the house elf appeared. The two Unspeakables looked at one another, aiming their wands, an Avada Kedavra on their lips as Draco yelled.

“LET’S GO!” the house elf grabbed onto him, and with another loud crack, the two vanished.

Draco exhaled a sigh of relief. The last thing he’d seen before they had vanished was a flash of green light, shooting just over their heads. Draco swallowed hard, as he and Dobby landed back at Hogwarts. Draco was grateful to the house elf for saving his life. Wrapping his arms around the elf’s back, Draco clutched the elf to him.   
“We must hurry Master Draco,” the elf said. “Midnight approaches.” Draco stared at the elf, _had it been a week already?_ Time had always been wonky in the Department of Mysteries, but Draco couldn’t help but run as he heard two loud cracks several feet behind them. The elf took Draco’s hand and pulled him down to his height as the two ran towards the seventh floor corridor. The two leaped up the stairs, just as they moved, cutting the Unspeakables off from their chase. Draco heard errant spells crashing into the walls behind him as Draco followed Dobby up the stairs, higher and higher.

The seventh floor was nearly in sight, Draco’s heart leaped as he closed his eyes wishing for the Room of Requirement to appear when the two Unspeakables appeared with a crack in front of them, their wands drawn at Draco and the house elf. They were mere feet away, and Draco could feel his stomach roil. He _had_ to make it in, he thought. With a flick they had bound Dobby, leaving Draco on his own.

“Did you honestly think you could escape the Unspeakables?” the sandy-haired wizard said, his wand still pointed at Draco as he approached. Draco swallowed hard, the door had miraculously not vanished, and Draco was trying to think of how exactly he could get past the two men, stalking towards him. Draco looked around, hoping for a miracle.

The miracle came, in the form of Peeves the Poltergeist, who had just slipped up from the floor, and was shrieking at the top of his lungs at the Unspeakables. Draco leveraged the distraction, darting around the two men, and ran for the door, when he saw his wand poking out from the pocket of the quiet Unspeakable. Carefully, Draco turned, just as Peeves tossed a suit of armor at the wizards.

“Accio wand,” Draco hissed. The wand flew out of the wizard’s pocket. The man turned, glaring at Draco, running fast towards him as Draco opened the door to the Room of Requirement and slipped inside as fast as he could. A thud echoed against the door as it slammed shut behind him. Draco swallowed. He knew well enough from Umbridge it was possible to blow a hole through the Room of Requirement, but he also knew it would take a few minutes to do.

A clock had appeared in the room now, three minutes to midnight. Draco swallowed as he the spell Harry had sent appeared before him. He was glad he’d kept it in the room. A loud boom shook the Room of Requirement. Draco felt his heart racing as he pulled out his wand.

The clock struck midnight once. Twice. Three times, Draco moved fast beginning to make the complicated arm movements that would open the portal as he began to say the spell, “per spatium temporis et non iter, aperire portal inter mundos,” a glowing blue orb appeared before him. Draco swallowed hard, as the room shook again, though whether because of the sudden appearance or because of the Unspeakables still trying to destroy him, Draco couldn’t tell. Steadily, it was growing bigger, and Draco could almost see a faint outline of what looked like Harry on the other side. It hadn’t said whether or not to repeat the spell, but Draco knew enough about magic to remember that any spell could only get stronger the more intentioned it was said. Focusing on Harry instead of the Unspeakables trying to break down the wall, Draco spoke the spell again. The picture of Harry on the other side grew stronger. _Once more, with feeling,_ Draco thought, repeating the spell, even louder this time. A bright white light erupted in the room, and the portal to the other side opened, just as a hole blew through the Room of Requirement and the Unspeakables climbed through it. Draco ran towards the portal. The two men had been stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of the portal before them, and Harry Potter, much older, and sterner looking clearly glaring them down, his wand outstretched in one hand, and his other hand outstretched to Draco in the other.

Suddenly the Unspeakable leaped into action, his wand pointed at Draco, as he slipped the last way through the portal. Harry was faster, one arm wrapped protectively around Draco’s waist, Harry had cast a stunner at the Unspeakables, knocking them down before either wizard could cast so much as a stinging hex.

“Finite Incantatem,” Harry said, waving his wand at the portal, with another blinding flash of light, the portal closed, and Draco looked up into Harry’s familiar emerald eyes, his own grey ones stinging with unshed tears, as Harry held him close. “Gods I’ve missed you,” Harry said, placing a rough kiss to Draco’s lips.

Draco sighed into the embrace, holding his husband tight, as he allowed Harry to ravage his mouth. It was everything he’d ever hoped for, and then some.

 

 

\--HP & DM _Five Years Later—_

 The new Unspeakables had been fascinated by Draco’s story, admittedly, Draco had been rather wary of approaching the Department of Mysteries, even _with_ the Auror escort, or rather former Auror, and still savior of the Wizarding World escort. Harry had kept a careful arm around Draco’s waist at all times, and had refused any request for them to speak to Draco privately. Whoever the Unspeakables were that had attempted to kidnap him, remained unknown. They no longer worked for the DOM, that much was clear.

Draco and Harry’s first child, Scorpius, was nearing four and a half. Draco had given up his job at the Ministry when he’d learned he was pregnant again and had opted to take a job as Editor-in-chief of the Quibbler. They ran a feature story on Draco’s time travel experience, and Harry and Draco had moved out of the Manor after Scorpius to allow them their own private space. All in all, Draco had to say, _all was well._ Or at least, as well as it could be, for Draco Malfoy, and Harry Potter. They still teased each other, and but neither would have had it any other way. 

 

\-- The End

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is it. Thank you to everyone who has commented and shown me, love, I really appreciate it. If you'd like to see more you can find me on Tumblr at mothermalfoy.tumblr.com xoxo-MM


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